And all the while he had been shielding me, watching, recording, carrying, sparing me the burden of my own suspicions because he was not sure I was strong enough to hold them.

We had each been protecting the other from the same truth, in opposite directions, and the result was that a twelve-year-old had ended up alone with the heaviest thing in the house.

I have forgiven myself for many things about that time.

That one took the longest.

Chapter 7 — The Notebook

Inside the notebook, in Leo’s neat hand, were dates and times and locations.

Every instance, going back months, when Julian had said he was working late while his car was seen somewhere it should not have been: near a boutique hotel, outside a particular steak house, parked overnight at a luxury condominium building in River North.